


Haugesund

by StAnni



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: The safe-house is a very simple studio apartment in the downtown area of Haugesund.  Eames has been waiting for a day and a half and when he opens the door to the five quiet knocks, Arthur looks tired and pissed.





	Haugesund

The safe-house is a very simple studio apartment in the downtown area of Haugesund. Eames has been waiting for a day and a half and when he opens the door to the five quiet knocks, Arthur looks tired and pissed.

Eames knows what he is going to say “I know you’re taking a risk” but he says it anyway, stripping off his thick grey jacket with barely muted frustration “I can’t be here.”

It has been eight weeks since they’ve seen each other and it was supposed to be another four – at which point they would meet up back in their apartment in Wimbledon. But things, as they sometimes do, change.

“Vasiliev disbanded the team. Turns out there was an inside man since even before Oslo.” Eames tells him and Arthur runs his hands through his hair, giving Eames a look of exasperation “I told you not to take this fucking job. This is exactly why we agreed before not to take jobs at the same time!”

It’s all good and well, but it’s moot – so “I need a line out.” and Arthur curses, loudly, in response. “Darling, calm down.” Eames tries but Arthur kicks the frame of the double bed and shakes his head, and Eames knows, more in fear than actual anger. It’s not a good situation and Arthur, himself, is embroiled in a complicated job. 

“Since when do we clean up each other’s shit, Eames?” he bites out. Eames sighs, waiting for him to regain his composure. It is beyond unlikely of them to contact each other during jobs, it would have to be under extreme, potentially apocalyptic circumstances. 

As Eames sits down next to Arthur, Arthur gets up again – he is that kind of angry, the kind of angry where he doesn’t want to be in the proximity of another person if he can help it. Eames knows this, so he bears it out. “I’m supposed to be with Ava right now, Eames – do you get that? We’re supposed to be at church!”

Arthur’s job requires deep cover and he has been planted as a pious, severely happily married civil engineer in Oslo. And this is all understandable, they have do to these sort of things from time to time – and Eames understands that, he very deeply understands the importance of not blowing cover, but at Ava’s name Eames’ hackles are raised “You’re married to ME, Arthur.” He snaps. It is childish, he knows, and it doesn’t take the situation further, he knows. But it comes out nonetheless. 

Arthur gives him a, admittedly deserved, withering look and asks, coldly “Why don’t you ask Aidan?” 

It’s a low blow – or perhaps not that low - given the fact that Arthur was devastated when the whole Aidan thing happened two years ago - but fucking ill-timed. Besides, Eames has apologised, and paid for that indiscretion for almost a year. And, more to the point, “Aidan caught the first plane to South America” he says, plainly – in a “is that out of your system?” sort of way. Arthur stares at him blankly and Eames sighs “I knew the risks coming in, Arthur. I knew. And I know that this is…a major breach in protocol,” Arthur smirks bitterly at Eames using the language that he usually uses against him, “But who else do I turn to if not my fucking brilliant husband?” 

The compliment, as awkward and blatantly manipulative as it is, doesn’t land anyway. “I have to leave in less than an hour” Arthur says and Eames, desperate, tries another tact “Then just give me a name of one of your connections…” To which Arthur gives a warning step towards Eames, his eyes serious, livid “What the fuck did you just ask me?”

It was a stupid move and Eames tries again, getting up and moving towards Arthur, his hands up – peace “I just need some way out of here, love – I need a cover or something, anything…” and Arthur enunciates, angrily in response “I. Cannot. Fucking. Be. Here. James.” and running his hand over his face, over his mouth he shakes his head “I mean, I don’t even know if you understand the consequences of what my being here… Why the fuck am I explaining basic shit to you? Shit you taught me?” 

It’s been a rough week and it’s been hell waiting for Arthur to show up in a town where he is, quite frankly, dead scared to go outside to buy a pint of milk. So now the walls, the Arthur-ness of Arthur-at-Work starts to hurt. “I need your help.” He says, trying to keep his voice even. 

They got married five years ago. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing, unusual for both of them. Before that they had only dated for about a year, although they casually fucked each other since their early twenties. Eames has never been overly sentimental, and for that matter, neither has Arthur – but there was always, always love there between them. Even back when they couldn’t see it, back when they misunderstood it to be friendship and alliance. Even during their darkest times, when Eames got angry-drunk and followed Aidan to his duplex in Battersea. They have always had a love that is tested, sometimes battered but in all things, abiding.

Arthur takes a step towards Eames and puts his hand, cold from the air outside, on Eames’ neck. Eames dissolves, relief washing over him, into the touch. “If anything happens to you…” Arthur says and he doesn’t finish – he doesn’t need to. Eames knows because it is the same for him.

“Love, I need you.” Eames breathes, putting his forehead to Arthur’s, the helplessness that he is feeling, trembling under his skin, so much so that he cannot bear to look Arthur in the eyes. But he can feel Arthur’s eyes on him, the warmth of his gaze. 

When they were no more than children, two dangerous idiots of twenty one and twenty two – they already had love.

Before he can finally open his eyes he feels Arthur’s hand move to his cheek, lifting his face slightly and catching him in searing, solidifying kiss.

Arthur’s answer is firm, but quiet. “Fuck this. Fuck everything. We’re leaving tonight. You and me - Ibiza. We need a break.”


End file.
